


Dear Mr. Emrys

by VeronicaFerCard



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Internalized Homophobia, Letters, Love Letters, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, World War I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 06:55:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5858761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeronicaFerCard/pseuds/VeronicaFerCard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I belong to you, Arthur. Heart and soul. I am  yours.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dear Mr. Emrys

London, 1910

Dear Mr. Emrys,

  
I took the liberty to acquire your address with Miss Leodegrance. For I could not get out of my head the fact you called me a pompous prat to my very face. First of all, I think you would find you cannot address me like that. Seeing as I happen to be a much, much more important figure than the likes of you. However, I am willing to overlook such offense, if we do continue on these exchanges. You see, I have few acquaintances at the moment and, well… I could do with some new, well, some new faces.

 

That said I do believe you owe me an apology, so that we can move past this unfortunate incident. And move forward with our correspondence; if you wish to do so, of course. You are within your right to decline, perhaps not even answer this one, if that is what you desire. Although I am almost certain, regardless of what you had said, you did enjoy my company.

 

Regarding companies…

 

I couldn't help but to notice the almost permanent frown on your features, as you navigated through a crowd which seemed to not please you in the slightest. Please forgive me my forwardness, but were you unwell or was it just the company that was not of your liking? It concerns me deeply that I haven't done all that was in my power to avert any unpleasantry that might have fallen upon you. I know my father has a rather, shall we say, extreme set of friends. I hope they have not disturbed you with their manners. Even if your clumsiness was rather entertaining, they should not have laughed on your face. Neither should I, come to think of it. I apologize.

 

But never mind all that. I believe the true reason which led me to write to you is how much you intrigue me, Mr. Emrys. I have never, in my entire life, encountered a person such as you. You do not belong to my circles (how did you get an invitation to my father’s gala, by the way?), and yet, you do not bow to us, as someone in your position would.

 

You defy conventions, Mr. Emrys. And you do so with your head held high. I respect that, admire even. It is one of the reasons which lead me to believe we would get along.

 

I have a confession to make. Up until the moment when you all but fell on my lap I was drowning, Mr. Emrys. I was bored to my very core with all the same old conversations, from the same old faces. You have saved my life, Mr. Emrys. You did.

 

Perhaps with time I will come to comprehend how you did it.  I am not easily charmed by strangers and yet… I am afraid I cannot explain it. It is why I feel so compelled to get to know you, so that I can understand what you have awoken in me that night.

 

And with this statement I conclude my letter.

 

I hope to hear from you soon.

 

My best regards,

Arthur Pendragon

* * *

 

Ealdor, 1910

  
Dear Mr. Pendragon,

 

I am glad the novelty of me has been enough to entertain you. There is nothing I wish more than to be a distraction from the boredom of your regular life.

 

I also feel obliged to point out that, no, I will not apologize for speaking my mind. If I read your letter right, it seemed like you have enjoyed my doing so. And second, you don't have acquaintances at all. You have toadies, vultures after your money and prestige.

 

And to call your father's friends extreme would be an inadequate use of the word. Those men are so self-entitled they cannot see the light of day, seeing how deep they have their heads buried within their backsides.

 

As for yourself, it would have been my pleasure to say I have not seen you as an arrogant, pompous, cabbage head. But alas, I cannot lie. John, although you must know him as Professor Kilgharrah, has said to me you are not as bad as you appear to be. I do hope he proves me wrong in my assumptions, tho’ I will not hold my breath.

 

Well, now that I got that out of my chest…

 

I feel that I need to have a very serious conversation with Gwen about how she is absolutely not allowed to forward my address to every prat who asks for it. Although it is only fair, come to think of it, since it was Gwen who got me to your fancy gathering; she needed a companion, and I happened to be in town. It was also a good opportunity to see Gaius; he has been a friend of my family since before I was even born.

 

Fancy that! We have a lot of people in common. Of course, most of them work for you, but regardless… God help me, Mr. Pendragon, but I am starting to believe we were, indeed, destined to meet each other.

 

Oh well… I guess there is no point in denying your miserable, friendless, pompous self the pleasures of the wit and cleverness of my words. I know that you will be waiting, eagerly, for news of my adventures and tales of doings around… well, around Ealdor. Perhaps London, from time to time, but I haven’t gone beyond that to be quite honest.

 

Nevertheless! Come along, Pendragon. For I am sure anything I do is bound to be more interesting than sitting around the medieval dungeon you call it home. But don’t let my words shy you away from telling me whatever it is that you do while the staff feeds you, and dresses you and basically treats you as a life size doll and…

 

Alright, I will apologize for that last bit. I cannot afford more paper and ink so an apology will have to do. I ought to finish this letter now, shall I?

 

I hope to hear from you soon, Pendragon.

 

Until then...

M. Emrys.

* * *

 

London, 1911

Merlin,

 

I had a wonderful time during the Holidays. No, wait! That is not completely true. Your bed if awful, it is truly terrible and I hated every minute I had to spend lying on it. I could not begin to comprehend how you can sleep on it every day. Be honest with me, are you a masochist? Do you enjoy suffering?

 

Well, that concludes my first topic. Your bed is a disgrace. I am getting you a new one for your birthday.

 

And I hope you see how incredibly generous I am being, for not mentioning your house lacks a guest room. I would never point that out, for your mother’s sake. Mrs. Emrys – pardon me – Hunith (she insisted) is a lovely woman.

 

Oh, and I want you to promise me you will let me know if you have any more problems with that troublesome landlord of yours. What an unpleasant little weasel that man is! If he gives you or your mother any trouble you let me know right away.

 

Oh, Merlin. But never mind all that. Regardless of the accommodation I did enjoy myself more during the past week than I had in a long, long time.  You know the end of the year is a rather cheerless time for my family. My father’s thoughts go all to my late mother and her passing. It takes away all the joy from the holidays.

 

May Father never read these words, but I had a blast, Merlin. I had an absolute blast walking around your little town, fighting off evil landlords and even arguing with your bad-tempered, foul-mouthed friend, William. It was a great birthday.

 

Sometimes I dream about living a more simple life, you know; away from all the responsibilities, duties and everything that it is expected of me because of my name.

 

Perhaps I could be a farmer. What do you think? I could buy a small portion of land and a couple of cows. And some chicken. Oh yes, and a few pigs. I would also need crops. What should I plant, Merlin?

 

I would need an assistant, as well. Of course that would have to be you. I don’t know any other farm boys and you are already used to live in the filth and with very little. You would be perfect for it. Congratulations, Merlin! You are hired. You are now my new servant. I shall pay you with food and roof above your head, as well as the pleasure of my company. What else could you wish for?

 

You will love it, Merlin. I will start the preparations right away.

 

Well, I better go now. While I dream about this utopian land my real world calls me back to the present at hand. I have an important dinner in last than an hour. Oh, Merlin. I would gladly take that watery oatmeal porridge I have been eating at your house over the three course meal I will have to face tonight. If only for the company… Have you ever heard of Olaf Kingly and his daughter, Vivian? If you have not, be thankful.

 

I will be waiting to hear your thoughts about the farm.

 

Until then…

 

My best wishes,

A

* * *

 

Ealdor, 1911

Arthur,

 

At least you did not have to sleep on the bloody floor!

 

And yes, I must be a masochist. I am, after all, friends with you!

 

And no, Kanen has not shown his ugly face around since the day you confronted him. Mom tells me to say thank you every time she sees me with paper and ink in my hand. I assume she thinks you are the only person I correspond with. Well… I could be writing to Will, or Gaius, or Gwen… Or even John. But why would I write to Kilgharrah, he is an awful correspondent, I never know what he really means to say with his words.

 

But anyway, thank you for dealing with Kanen. I am grateful. Will, the pessimist that he is, says you have only made things worse, but I do not share his thoughts. I think Kanen will leave us alone, at least for some time.

 

Thank you, Arthur. From the bottom of my heart, I will never forget what you did.

 

Changing the subject, now. You may complain as much as you want, but I know you Arthur Pendragon. Sometimes I feel like I know you more than you know yourself. You loved spending time in Ealdor. You should come more often. Mom would love to have you around; she would fuss all over you. Will would complain, but that is what he does. He knows how much I like you. Sometimes I think he is just a tad bit jealous, he is not used to having to share my attention. But then again, neither are you. What is it about me, that I keep attracting the most self-centered friends? It must be some kind of gift, or a course.

 

Now, I promised myself as I read your letter that I would not mention it, but I cannot, I just cannot turn a blind eye to it, Arthur. I understand it must be awful for your father, to remember your mother died in this time of year.

 

But good God, Arthur!

 

It is also the time to celebrate that you were born!

 

To celebrate your life, for Christ’s sakes! You should be his priority; I do not care what you say. I know you are mine. My priority, I mean. It is one more year of having you around, pratting on about this or that, but regardless, it is another year of you. That should be cause of celebration. It is for me, and it sure as hell should be for your own father. There are no excuses here.

 

I am sorry I got mad there, but I am not sorry I said it. You deserve better than to feel bad for being alive. Never feel bad for being alive, Arthur. I know, I know, that if your mother were here, she would never allow you to apologize for your life. She loved you, Arthur. I do not doubt that for a second and she would certainly be devastated to know you were sad during your own birthday.

 

I did my best to make sure you had a lovely week while you were here with me. But none of that matter if, in your mind, you keep caring that guilt. Let go of it, it does not even suit you; you are always so full of yourself, I hate seeing you second guessing your feelings, Arthur. Stop doing that.

 

Well, I will let it go for now, because I know you will be mad I used all my paper to talk about something you probably do not wish to discuss. But I had to tell you, because you are my friend, Arthur, and I care about you.

 

Now as for your farm… You wouldn’t know how to light a fire, Pendragon. And I will not, I refuse to work for you. You already treat me as some sort of manservant every time you are around; I refuse to willingly submit to a position where you would be entitled to give me orders. And let us be honest, I would never oblige, even if that was the case. You cannot tell me what to do, Pendragon, you never could. 

 

You would not last a day without a parade of people trailing after you, doing everything for you. Maybe that is the problem, you know. You let them do everything, because it suits you. But you are also letting them think for you. Well, perhaps not your staff, but definitely your father. You let him make all the decision for your life. Doesn’t it tire you, Arthur? You are a grown man. You are more capable of waking with your own two legs than you give yourself credit for. I mean, the farm idea might be a bit extreme.

 

You may want to give some more thought to that, Arthur. You do not have to run away, you have to face it. Face your father, Arthur. Tell him you do not wish to live the life he wants you to live. Open up to him, as you do to me. You can do it, Arthur. I believe in you. I always have.

 

Find the courage I know lies in your heart.

 

Until then…

Here forever to support you,

 

M

* * *

 

London, 1912

Merlin,

 

Merlin, I… Merlin, I do not know what to say. What happened yesterday… I know I ran away like a coward, but I did not know what say. I still have no idea what came over me.

 

I can no longer contain these feelings within the fragile walls of my heart. They have grown too big. I love you. God have mercy on my soul, but I love you. It is all I know and it is all I feel.

 

I was suffocating with all the words I could not say. I still cannot, I should not be writing this. It is wrong. Is it not? God, if I had even an ounce of common sense in me I would be ripping this paper to pieces, I would be burning these words and I would never see you again.  I would make this go away. I would shut down these feelings so deep within myself until they no longer existed; until I no longer knew how to call it. But good Lord, I know now what I am feeling. I can name everything that has been going through my mind ever since I first laid eyes on you, Merlin.

 

I know this is not right. It is not how a man should feel about another. But it does not, Merlin. It does not feel wrong. I had never had a feeling which seemed so right. Nothing ever felt as perfect as to when I am around you. So how come they say it is wrong? How come my father? How come the Church? How come God?

 

How can they say I should not love you when I already do? When I no longer know how to live without this feeling, always lingering at the back of my thoughts? I wish I could see you every day. I wish I could touch you. I wish I could hold you in my arms and kiss you again.

 

God, what am I doing? If my father ever saw this… He would kill us both.

 

Merlin, promise me you will not hate me for my words. I would not survive it. I cannot lose you. Please, tell me I will not.

 

But if I do lose you… At least I had the courage to tell you how I feel. You would be proud of that. You always say it makes you proud, when I get things out of my chest. And this might just be the most brave – or stupid – thing I have ever done.

 

If you never want to see me again, I guess I will understand.

 

It was my immeasurable pleasure, to have met you upon that lovely evening, Merlin, name-calling aside. 

 

I love you. If I never get the chance to say it again, I will say it now. I love you.

 

I wonder if I will hear from you again.

Until then…

 

I love you,

A

* * *

 

Ealdor, 1912

Arthur Pendragon,

 

You are the most stupid, stupid, stupid man I have ever met in the twenty two years I have been walking this Earth. How could you ever doubt? How could you not see how much I love you? Jesus Christ, Arthur! I think I have loved you since before I even laid eyes on you. Is that possible? It might just be, for us.

 

I wish you had not run. We could have done this face to face, you prat. It would avoid the agonizing hours I spent replaying that kiss again and again in my mind. There was a moment, right before dawn, when I actually convinced myself it never happened. Clearly, I had made it all up. It would not be the first time my mind had conjured such images.

 

But I knew it was real. I could still feel it. If I closed my eyes and lay very, very still, I could feel the softness of your lips brushing against mine. And just like that I was certain. It happened. It really did. You kissed me. You kissed me. You kissed me. I am grinning like a loon right now, Arthur. You should be here to see my face. You should be here so I could kiss you again.

 

I have wonderful news, Arthur. I’m going to London with my friend, William. We found a place to live. It was supposed to be a surprise, but alas, I cannot keep it from you any longer. Not after what happened. You need to know that I will be closer now, that I want to be closer, as closer as I can get. We could see each other every day, Arthur.

 

I cannot stop smiling. I think I might be going insane.

 

Oh, my love. I long for you, like a starved man in need of nourishment. Now that I have had a taste of you I am addicted. I have always been, to your smile, to your blue eyes, to your golden hair. But now that I know how it feels to be touched by your hands... How could I ever want anything else from life?

 

This is not wrong, Arthur. You can doubt everything but do not doubt this. I love you, you love me. What we feel is right, it is pure, it is us.

 

I could never hate you, Arthur. I could never, ever, feel anything but love towards you. Because of your gentle soul, your kind heart, this beautiful light that emanates from you and it blinds me. I can see nothing else; I cannot feel anything that is not you.

 

Oh, pardon me! The small stain at the bottom is a tear. Do not worry, I am not sad. I am thrilled, excited. I feel that we have such a wonderful journey ahead of us, my dear Arthur. We have only just started, you and I. There is so much to come. It is a secret, I know. I am not naïve, but it is a beginning.

 

The beginning of something beautiful and ours, Arthur.

 

I will be seeing you sooner than you expect, my love.

Until then…

 

M

* * *

 

London, 1913

Dear,  
  
My father believes these letters are for Miss Leodegrance. Could you even imagine? He does not approve of it. I have told you, he wants me married with Mithian. Although I think he would prefer Guinevere to the actual truth.

 

Could you even imagine? A world in which I could take your hand in mine whenever I saw fit, and I could present you to father as my husband to be! He would still dislike you, ~~Mer~~ (I think we risk ourselves too much, writing our names in these. I should refer to you as ‘love’, or ‘dear’, or ‘stupid’ depending on how you behave). Anyway, I am sorry to say that, but Father would never allow me to marry a servant (he is convinced you work for me. I haven’t the heart to correct him).

 

But this is not the reason which brought me to write for you today. That is correct. I will make you receive this before evening, for I have an invitation to make and I will need your answer until tomorrow at the very least.

 

Well, my father is taking Morgana to a trip the day after tomorrow. They shall spend the entire weekend at a friend’s house in Scotland. I will have the house to myself and, well. To us. If you wish. I want it to be just the two of us. For that I will have to give a day or two off for the entire staff but I am sure they will not complain.

 

What do you say, ~~Me~~ my love? Would you fancy spending a day in my company?

 

We could make the most of it, just us. We could walk around if the weather allows us, and perhaps have a picnic by the lake. I know how very fond you are of the ducks and geese. But we are not taking any bread with us. I am serious; you are not to feed those creatures again! They become vicious and I am not risking any limbs! If you love my extremities as much as you always claim to, you will content yourself with watching them swim without interacting with those bloodthirsty creatures.

 

Oh, and we could, we could enjoy the house as well. I have a new bath, it came from France a few days ago, I do not believe I have mentioned to you before. It was a gift from Morgana. She says it could fit two of me in there, and for once I think she is right. It is a rather large bathtub. I have yet to use it for the first time, but I am certain that at least one of me will fit perfectly.

 

There is wine as well. Have I mentioned wine? Another gift, this one from Mithian. She told me, as she handled me the bottle (and these are her exact words) ‘for you to share with the one I am clearly not.’

 

Perhaps a bit of context is order here. You see, a few nights before my father had made a toast in her honor in the hopes that she might be ‘the one’. I was mortified! But Mithian is a good sport, bless her soul.

 

She knows. She does not know know, but she knows. She is aware it is not her, and she remains a dear friend. She has never confronted me, not the way my sister does. You would like her. Perhaps one day I could introduce the two of you.

 

But not this weekend. This weekend I want you all to myself. Please tell me it is not foolish of me to desire so.

 

I will be waiting eagerly for your answer.

Until then…

 

A

* * *

 

London, 1913

Lover,

  
Your father's approval is the farthest thing from my mind.

 

I have no need for public displays of affection to know that you love me. Your eyes on mine when we talk in front of others, and then your hands as they run through my body in secret, those are enough proof for my heart to know yours beats for me as well.

 

Your friend Mithian sounds like a wonderful person, but do try not to use so much paper to talk about her the next time you are writing to invite me for a romantic weekend. You see, you lose track, love. And I was so excited to read about your new bathtub. I was just wondering… was your sister calling you fat? Or was she implying you could, perhaps, fit in it together with another man? I would say she is hinting at both. I have met your sister, she is a smart woman.

 

I do not know why you concern yourself so much about writing names. People know, Arthur. They might not know know, but they know I write for you and you for me. Do you think the lad who delivers the mail is losing his sleep over what we write to each other?

 

Well, he is not, because he cannot read, but that is not my point. We address these to each other. We are not as inconspicuous as you think we are, dear.

 

Arthur, Arthur, Arthur. I love you. I love your smile, your kiss, your smell. I know how you taste like. I am not concern. No one is reading this besides you and me. Do not worry. I can keep a secret. But I will never keep it from you. I refuse not to write your name, because it is the sweetest thing I have to write.

 

And let us be honest, we have no need to actually write to each other, Arthur. I see you all the time. But it is our tradition and I like to keep your words with me when I cannot be with you. Because I know that one day you will be gone from my life. You will marry a Mithian and I will be left behind, but then I will at least have your letters to keep me company. They will remind me that we lived this, that, for a time, you were mine.

 

Sometimes I feel like our days are numbered, Arthur, and it scares me. It is why I would never refuse the opportunity to spend time with you. But by God, do not let the staff go before they prepare you food. I will not spend my weekend cooking for you, Pendragon. I am not your servant; I have to remind you of that time and again.

 

I will deliver this letter in person, because I know you will be restless for my reply. So I will be seeing you in a moment, and then I will be seeing you for the entire weekend. Oh, it will be wonderful, lover mine! I promise you I will not even look at the ducks. I will just have eyes for you, and I will cherish every single second of it.

 

I will see you in a moment, and, if I can, I will still a kiss, to bear the wait until I can properly show you my love.

 

Until then…

 

M

* * *

 

London, 1914

Dearest,

  
I am afraid I have the most dreadful news. The day after tomorrow I part to France, for I will be marching into war.

 

My father has been delaying this for far too long. I have no right to hide in this household while so many brave men give their lives for the country.

 

I know you will not approve, that you will be afraid for my safety, especially after William. But fear not, my dear. I will come back to you, victorious. I will conquer the world if I have to. I will do anything to return for you. Only for you.

 

All I ask is that you do not forget me, for that I have arranged for us to meet tomorrow at the same place and time. I want to march to France with the ghost of your touch still lingering on my skin. I want to still feel your taste on my tongue as I ride into battle. I want your voice to still echo in my mind, as the world falls apart around be.

 

Please, please. I will be waiting for you.

  
Yours forever, 

  
A

* * *

 

London, 1914

Beloved,

  
You are right, I am afraid. But I also believe in you, my love. I believe you can do it all. I will meet you, but I could not wait for tomorrow to say these words to you. And even tho' is late, Gwen, bless her soul, has agreed to deliver this message to you.

 

My dear, do not be so fool. How could I ever forget you? I belong to you, Arthur. Heart and soul. I am  yours.

 

Do not concern yourself, for if I do not see you again in this life, I will meet you in the next. I will search for you in heaven. I will tear hell apart to find you if I have to.

 

I will see you again.

 

Until then…

 

M

 

**Author's Note:**

> We all know what happened the last time Arthur went to war.


End file.
